


Love in the Heart of the City

by NorthwesternInsanity



Category: Music RPF, Whitesnake (Band)
Genre: Angst, Crying, Family emergency, Gen, confidence struggles, love where you least expect it, miles from home
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-12
Updated: 2018-09-12
Packaged: 2019-07-11 12:26:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,402
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15972287
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NorthwesternInsanity/pseuds/NorthwesternInsanity
Summary: 1983 Donington Monsters of Rock Festival. David Coverdale endures an emotional night onstage, fearing the possible loss of a loved one at home, but finds that there is love to be had in the world even when all seems to be falling apart.





	Love in the Heart of the City

**Author's Note:**

> Written way back as a request for a family friend, based on the ending of https://youtu.be/eUG9P2SHFss and that David Coverdale's daughter had been severely ill at the time as the reasoning for being overwhelmed. Though Cozy Powell was in Whitesnake at the time, she also requested I write it with Ian Paice still being in the band, so that's why he's mentioned (I kept him offscreen so the AU in the timeline wasn't incredibly invasive). I'm backing this up from Rockfic, and doing so with lots of hesitation, as I received some private, harsh words over it, hence the comment moderation I've placed here -which is likely unnecessary, but it's for comfort, and if it makes the boat float...

After months of anticipation, Whitesnake had finally made it to the big event.

Monsters of Rock at Donington.

It was 1983, and what a perfect way to celebrate roughly 5 years of the band's existence. At least that's what David Coverdale had expected the festival to be.

Considering how painful it had been with all the stress and drama as Deep Purple fell apart, Whitesnake had been a godsend in not only being the next step, but also having allowed him a new path forward that still had hopes of success one day even if it hadn't made it there yet. The night on which he'd found himself running offstage in tears, then desperately telling Paicey and Jon later that he couldn't take it anymore had contained so much fear and uncertainty. And David still couldn't decide whether it had been more of a relief or all the more painful to him when the response was that there was no band left to quit. It had fallen apart to an unsalvagable state.

So, there was all the reason in the world to celebrate Whitesnake having made it far enough to arrive at Donington Park a few years later.

But as they arrived at the grounds, David felt that celebrating was the furthest thing from his mind. His eyes were glazed over. They seemed to drift out into space, but then darted back and forth in a sporadic twitching motion, mimicking the way his mind was frantically racing. He had his hands raised in front of him, resting on his chest, and the way he gripped his one hand with the other so tightly that his fingertips turned darker and throbbed made sure to give him away if his eyes failed to.

"Do I dare say you're nervous, David?" asked Jon with concern as he arrived with David and the others to their preparation quarters.

Jon. That he and Ian were in Whitesnake with David had multiple advantages and disadvantages -some of which were both at once. And one of those things at the moment was the fact that they knew David well and could read him like a book.

"Quite right, I am. I suppose there's no point in me denying it if you see it. Even if I shouldn't be." David sighed and shook his head, his long mane fluttering with the motion.

"Whatever is the matter?"

"I'm in over my head, Jon." David's voice was tense. He spoke fast, in a clipped manor. Almost as if panicking.

Jon raised an eyebrow at David, puzzled.

"Why you do know they're all fans out there to see us -these festivals. There's nothing more to worry about than anywhere else -it's just a larger crowd. That can't be the matter, now, is it?"

David wasn't the type to get major stage fright or anything beyond the typical bout of nerves. Some events caused more nerves than others, but this reserved, brooding, nearly desperate nature was completely unlike David Coverdale outside of the tense time leading up to Deep Purple falling apart. And though things weren't all perfect yet, Jon didn't sense anything like that happening with Whitesnake. Any other time, David usually kept whatever insecurities he had over a performance under such a thick armor of charisma that no one would be the wiser. At just a few hours before performance time, ordinarily he would already be building it up around himself.

"As part of it -nearly a thousand more spectators there to see and be disappointed should something go wrong. It's a major event. That's the thing. It's a bigger deal. Once you're in, it's not about _just not missing the event_ and being there physically -it's about being at the best of your best for them all! _And truly being there!"_

There was something about the way David said "not missing the event" and that made a lightbulb switch on in Jon's head. Realization hit him like a brick.

David was indeed nervous about performing. Not because of the nature of the crowd so much, but given the expectation of the occasion when he wasn't even in the zone to properly give his best performance. He was afraid he'd mess up and things would go wrong for more than just the regular reasons. Because while he was there physically, in his mind he was miles away, at home, where he'd have likely gone to and been at this moment had it not been for the huge performance event awaiting them in just a few hours. With his mind back there, building his resolve was almost impossible.

The past year had been brutal. David's beloved daughter, Jessica, was bedridden in a hospital and severely ill with meningitis not long ago. That was a horrific diagnosis for anybody, but for a young child, life was a very slim probability. He and the band had spent so much time on hiatus while he dealt with the problem at home, being there. And though it had finally begun to improve just as hope was running out and she'd recovered, right before he'd left with the band for Donington, he'd received word that Jessica was falling ill again. If it was the meningitis rebounding, then that would almost guarantee the worst, as it would be harder to treat a second time. Although it was likely just a simple fever that young children were prone to, after such a horrible time just behind him, it was hard to be optimistic and not worry.

"David," started Jon, his tone changing to a softer one without any pity that David would have loathed when he was already struggling, but deep understanding. "You do know that-"

"I don't want to talk about it, Jon!" Despite Jon's effort, David snapped anyway with fire in his eyes. It was a short, violent burst of rage that near instantly dissipated and left despair, exhaustion, and pain behind, as well as a pang of guilt when he saw Jon step back, seeming to wilt slightly. 

"I know I shouldn't be this worried because it's probably nothing, and it's bloody stupid that I can't get my fucking head where I am here right now -but-"

"It's alright, David. We know you've been through a hell of time, and it certainly frightened you all. It would be daft of me to not understand your reason for being nervous tonight. You've got to understand -and I know it's easier said than done -that even if you were there, it wouldn't change the nature of the illness. You have a show to perform, and you have to trust it will be alright as you might if you were there." Jon knew that trying to sway what David was thinking was a pointless battle -he was far too stubborn, and too high strung to be talked down by simple reasoning. Still, it was the best he could do, and he could hope it would at least help David to build enough resolve to comfort himself.

David nodded, letting his mane fall over the sides of his face. "This is stupid. All of it. I just want to enjoy this moment and not be all screwed up for it, you know?"

"And you can, David. You can if you focus on here and now. I'm not going to be the one to say it's wrong to worry about what's happening with you back home, because I wouldn't be able to bear it either, but worrying about whether you should be there or not won't change it. It doesn't make the outcome better. I don't know where we'd be if it did, because a lot of things would be different.

"Well, yes -Purple wouldn't have imploded, we wouldn't be struggling right now to get ahold of this, and-"

"Look, mate. We're together still. Almost five years. And we're here. At Donington. That's a pretty big thing for a band, what say you?" 

David looked up at Jon, nodding and slowly unfurling his nervous grip on himself. He stood up straighter, allowing his arms to hang at his sides from shoulders set back in a stance like his more confident stage persona. Only his eyes seemed to betray the agonizing thoughts still swirling through his mind.

"I'm going to go get ready, Jon. Make sure you're ready with the others too. We have to make this go well tonight. We _have_ to."

 

And just a few hours later, they were onstage, in mid performance with the intention to do just that -so far living up to it too. The signature David Coverdale charisma was in full spread as the performance began, painting a mask of confidence over his inner troubles. The audience was none the wiser of the singer's conundrum back home, and had his bandmates not known from earlier, they might not have been the wiser either.

On the inside, his chest was being squeezed with some of the worst nerves and anguish he'd felt in his life. The feeling of impending tragedy was giving him flashbacks to his last night in Deep Purple and blowing his fears out of proportion. Any potential slip up appeared less like a mild embarrassment and more like a doomed ending for the night's performance, and possibly the band.

He had called home before finishing getting dressed to go onstage. That had been his only true mistake while getting ready, because after making it, David felt worse. There was more fear to carry hidden away within him tonight. He knew he should have taken Jon's advice down to the very last word and completely left everything going on at home at home until after the performance. But, in his own stubbornness that even he couldn't help but acknowledge having -and would probably laugh at it if not for the circumstances -he'd picked up the phone and called home.

Jessica had a fever of 39.2 degrees Celcius, and purely delirious. Though this was not nearly as high as it had been with the meningitis, it was enough cause for concern, and there was no telling if there was still damage from the recent disease that would make a fever more severe with less degree. It had gone up from earlier in the day -which meant it could continue going up. Julia was seriously considering taking Jessica to the hospital if it got any higher.

The performance was going okay, David was assuring himself. He was pushing harder than he was accustomed to in order to resist the tightness in his chest -but it didn't sound strained. Just more powerful, as though the emotions were channeling into his performance as some new found strength for the night.

That was, until the time for their cover of "Ain't No Love in the Heart of the City" came. He knew he wasn't going to be able to resist the feeling by forcing it on this one -it wouldn't sound right with the slower, more soulful style. Though a pretty sad song lyric-wise, David hadn't ever feared it would get to him before tonight. Never had it seemed so relevant either, if in a different way from the norm. Just knowing the content of the song, David had a pretty good feeling it was going to tug on his heartstrings in a way he wasn't accustomed to, and just hoped it wouldn't result in 'Mrs. Coverdale's little boy' making a less than graceful spectacle of himself onstage if one snapped.

Of course, that worry probably made him more susceptible. He tried to push it down under his fading resolve.

It just seemed so pathetic. They were at this huge event, Donington, that was almost the pinnacle of Rock festivals. There were so many fans out there supporting. But it seemed as if fate and life were being so cruel with all these horrible things having to happen miles away at home. They were being so cruel to bring up painful memories too -poking at wounds that still weren't entirely healed.

_Ain't no love in the heart of the city,_   
_Ain't no love in the heart of town._   
_Ain't no love, sure 'nuff is a pity, child_   
_Ain't no love 'cos you ain't around._

The lyrics tried to pull David back into the guilt trip of not being there. At home. He wasn't around. There was no love from him back home where it was needed. And, as a result, none back to him it seemed.

The line "now that you're gone" sent shockwaves of fear through him. Fear of the worst outcome, should it be that the meningitis were rebounding. Reminders of the fear he'd felt when he'd run off the stage that night, so strong that it was almost real. He knew he was going to break apart if he didn't do something, and then he still might.

He found himself looking up at Jon, whom he'd discussed with some possibilities of crowd interaction during the song, and Jon glanced over and nodded as if to say this was the time to do it. It was an emotional point in the song and would ring true with the audience, and hopefully, would give David a chance to regain himself before disaster struck.

"Let me hear you... Sing it for me, Donington," he spoke, trying to suppress the tremble in his voice, before breathing deeply and closing his eyes against the dull ache forming behind them.

The chorus through the crowd was tremendous. Not screamed or excessively loud by any person, but just massive with so many people at once. It felt calming. A presence that hadn't been there before.

"Let me hear you sing it!" David howled in a quick burst of courage it had given him, all while encouraging it to continue in one big cycle of positive energy.

The rhythmic clapping with the singing of the crowd grew. A different, overwhelming feeling replaced the previous one in David's chest. This one not of fear and despair, but the realization there was this huge crowd of support out there. Support that was holding the night together. Holding Whitesnake together, and saying it would stay strong. Giving David a sense of hope that maybe things were staying together at home too.

They may not have had the slightest clue out in the crowd of what he was home away from and what he was having flashbacks of, but the feeling before of the cold, lack of love at this festival, at Donington, had gone away. There was a tremendous amount of love in the heart of the city at Donington. Right when he'd needed it more than anything.

And aside from the anguish of the possible bad outcomes that were looming, everything else was replaced with an extreme gladness he was there. There was a bright spark of hope that everything would truly be okay.

As he took over, feeling stronger internally than before, but all the more overwhelmed, David glanced over at Jon, who was jamming away on his keyboards with a teary-eyed smile, impressed with the crowd response and how perfectly it had worked out, and at the return of David's external strength.

By the time David reached the last chorus reprise of the song, he was overcome with emotion again, in a different sense. The heartache of the fear mixed with the overwhelming support was causing a suffocating combination, and he was gasping shakily between vocal lines. And as the song hit its climatic ending, guitars stopping with a hard chord strike before he sang slowly and softly the last, soulful lines, he froze in terror, all but clinging to the mic stand. His eyes burned with tears so thick he couldn't see anything but blurred candlelight, and trying to swallow the hiccuping that tried to rise to his throat in sharp hitches made his voice want to waver slightly off pitch.

"Cause you ain't around..."

He broke off, glad the style they'd rehearsed planned a pause there, leaning against the microphone stand, shielding his face with his hair as he wiped his eyes before the tears could visibly run. He tried so hard to keep from fully contorting his expression with anguish as he did, and swallowed hard against the tension again.

"Cause you ain't around, no-"

This time, in the slight pause, before David could get away from the microphone or stifle it back, one of those blasted hitches broke free from his lungs and throat in the form of a sobbing gasp, being well picked up by the microphone as it seemed to course through his whole body. _Yes, there you all have it, ladies and gentlemen. Mrs. Coverdale's boy is blubbing like a little girl up onstage._ For an instant, all the good feeling vanished, replaced by shame and fear, and he could practically feel the criticism building up in his head. Now he'd gone and screwed up at a huge performance event -and of all reasons why, because he was blubbering like a child onstage.

But, there wasn't much more to do, or that could be done, so he quickly forced out the last word of the line, in perfect tune, if still a bit shaky.

"-more..."

And as the band came back in with an explosive crash, he forced out the hardest power scream of the night into the microphone -one that the gasping was too weak to push back against, recovering as much of the control as he could at once.

As the last note of the instruments hit, he expected some taunting, still wiping his eyes, trying to stop before he completely embarrassed himself.

Instead, the reaction was the opposite.

Immediately, the overwhelming love of the chorus interaction came back in a huge standing ovation -a magnitude of noise not one of them onstage could have found the words for.

Looking back across the stage while waiting for the sound to settle before continuing, seeing not only Jon, but Micky Moody overwhelmed emotionally too, David managed to let out a silent sigh of contentment. It was going to be alright. Maybe, he concluded, it had happened for a reason.

It was the loudest applause they got all night -and the loudest in the time of Whitesnake, even after the next song -their final, "Fool For Your Loving."

Planned or not, the overwhelming fear and hurt had added emotion that couldn't have been rehearsed into the song. It was an honest, live performance that had carried on despite the hard circumstances. And it had brought all the love out of the heart of the city.

"David, are you alright?" asked Jon as they departed the stage, clapping a hand to David's shoulder after all but running to catch up to him.

"Yeah... Had to go make a blubbing idiot out of myself though," scorned David, eyes still burning, now trying to resist the urge to sniffle.

"No you didn't," insisted Jon.

David raised his eyebrows. "And why should you say that?"

"Because as much as you were struggling, you hung through it instead of walking off. It takes more than strength for that. It takes a lot of heart around what you and all of us do -and they can see that. It wasn't like it didn't fit the song either," reminded Jon. "And if it doesn't reassure you that I was tearing up too, you ought to have seen Micky during that!"

And there was a lot of strength from that heart too. It was more than the reason why the audience had shown their hearts back in that moment. It was why Whitesnake had made it to Donington, and it was how Whitesnake was slowly making David stronger. The last time he'd broken down onstage, it had been the end and he couldn't take it.

But this time, and through that night following the performance, David felt more sure than ever that he could take it and the threat of an ending was as far from his worries than it ever had been -if for just the night.

Because there indeed _was_ love in the heart of the city, for him and Whitesnake, and within Whitesnake.

And even though it looked bad at home right now, he had a stronger feeling it was going to be okay there too.

It _would_ be okay. They would still be around.

Life, just like the show, would go on.


End file.
